


Before You, I Didn't Exist

by Emme2589



Series: Just Call And I'll Be There [8]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Body Image, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gentle Kissing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, Kissing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Violence, Quentin is a Good Friend, Rough Kissing, Scars, Selectively Mute Henry Stickmin, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Sign Language, Songfic, Special BROvert Ops Ending | SBO (Henry Stickmin), Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, many f bombs, mention of charles being trans, petrov is a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27762097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emme2589/pseuds/Emme2589
Summary: "Before you, I didn't breathe. Before you, I didn't sleep. How did I ever do anything? Before you, I didn't know, the way that you would control, everything that surrounded me.""I didn't know that it would feel like this. I was so used to being treated like shit. I thought that love was a myth, but now you have me convinced, before you, I didn't exist."Henry fears that if he loses Charles, he'll have nothing left to live for.He just didn't mean to say that out loud.
Relationships: Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Series: Just Call And I'll Be There [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011435
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	Before You, I Didn't Exist

Henry and Charles held hands as they headed down the hallway. The general had called them into his office, and he sounded serious enough over the phone to put them on edge. Henry's scars were bothering him lately. They became more sensitive in humid weather, so they were throbbing just from the friction of his sleeves. Charles noticed it, too. That's why he was being extra gentle as he ran his thumb up towards a scar on his wrist. It made Henry want to kiss him senseless for being so considerate and sweet.

They hesitated outside the door, and the two of them made eye contact before Charles slowly opened it.

General Galeforce was seated at his desk, surrounded by soldiers of various ranks that ran the length of the room. The atmosphere was somber. Tense. Charles gave Henry's hand a squeeze, and Henry squeezed back.

The door closed behind them before Charles spoke, "You sent for us, General?"

"Yes I did. I'm glad you boys came quickly." Galeforce pushed his hat up off his eyebrows, "This is important."

"Uh, yeah. We can tell." Charles unconsciously stepped closer to Henry in unease, "What's up?"

Galeforce cast his gaze across the room before replying. Henry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Galeforce was usually at ease, retaining his professional demeanor over a layer of humor and fondness for his soldiers, but now, his shoulders tensed, his brow creased in worry, and his hands twisted over each other so his nails left long scratches across his aging skin.

"Someone sent for you, Henry." he said at last, "You and Charles. They asked for the both of you to come alone."

_"NO!"_

Henry clamped his mouth shut when dozens of surprised pairs of eyes honed in on him. Many of them had never heard his voice before in their lives.

Galeforce stood from his desk, "Henry..."

Henry shook his head, squeezing Charles' hand hard enough to cut off circulation.

"Henry, you have to breathe." Charles instructed firmly, "Breathe, okay? I'm right here. Everything will be fine."

Henry had a criminal past, they knew that much at least, but Charles didn't know how deep it went, so this reaction worried him, to say the least.

 _"I'll go, sir."_ Henry croaked, _"But I'll go alone. Without Charles."_

"What!?"

"I can't lose you!" Henry ripped his hand from Charles' grasp, "I have a lot of enemies, and if they've figured out what you mean to me-!"

He choked up, trailing off with a loud sob. Charles was stuck in place for a moment too long.

"Henry. Look at me." Charles lifted his head, "Hey, I mean it. _Look at me."_

He did.

"Since when d'you shove me off to the sidelines, man?" Charles gave him a patient smile, "We're battle partners, aren't we? I wouldn't leave _you_ outta this."

Henry pushed him away, "Whoever sent that summons is probably going to use you as a bargaining chip. Why wouldn't they just ask for me? Why send for you too? I can't lose you like that, Charles. I just can't!"

"Why? Why kick me out _now?_ Don't you know I care about your life too?"

Henry shook his head, "Just stay out of this, please."

"I don't want to!"

"Well too bad!" Henry slammed his fist down onto Galeforce's desk, "You're not going! I'm going alone! That's final!"

"No it isn't!"

The two of them continuously raised their voices as they argued, and several soldiers began to exchange awkward glances with one another while Galeforce sat back down and put his head in his hands.

Seeing Charles' anger rise just made something inside Henry snap. He tried to keep up the shouting, he really did, but his throat closed up and he crumpled against the desk, his tears soaking into the sleeves of his hoodie.

Whatever Charles was about to say next died in his throat as he watched Henry sob against the polished mahogany wood. He sighed, pushing his headphones down so they were around his neck as he massaged his temples.

"Henry..." Charles placed a hand on his back, "What are you so afraid of? I'm a seasoned soldier! I've been in crazy dangerous situations before that you wouldn't believe! How do you think I feel seeing you try to keep me out of the action because you think it will be dangerous?"

"It's not just that!" Henry lifted his head, his eyes red and puffy from crying, "I can't lose you!"

"You keep saying that, but it doesn't make sense! Why are you so convinced I'm going to die?"

"I'm not convinced!"

"Then why-!?"

"Because I don't want to live without you!" Henry exploded, _"I don't want to be alive if you can't be with me!"_

Charles' expression turned into one of cold-blooded horror before Henry realized what he'd just let slip.

Fuck.

_Fuck!_

Henry took a step back, his eyes falling on the door and then the window behind the general in a vain attempt to find a way out.

"Henry." Charles took his aching wrist before he could bolt, "Stay."

He did.

"You don't really mean that." Charles took both Henry's hands, "Right?"

Henry couldn't deny it now. No matter how he went about it, it would be impossible to truly backtrack, and that became apparent as all the soldiers in the room held their weapons in a tighter grip, or touched their belts to ensure none were missing.

"Henry."

Henry looked down.

"Henry, look at me."

Henry shook his head as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Or don't. Whatever works." Charles gave an exasperated sigh, "Just answer me this; What would you do if you lost me?"

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Henry knew he wouldn't like the answer. Charles knew he wouldn't like the answer. The general knew he wouldn't like the answer. Rupert was barely following.

Dave made sure the door was locked.

"What do you think I'd do?" Henry's voice came out surprisingly calm, "I'd put a bullet through my head."

A few gasps rang out in the room. Galeforce put a hand on the office phone. Charles squeezed Henry's hands tighter. 

It was formulaic. Henry had considered escaping that way before, but he'd never attempted it. He was obsessed with coming up with plans for how to go through with it, but that's all they were. Ideas. He always had at least a sliver of hope that things would get better, that he would find a way to be truly happy, and he had, but at a high price.

If he ever lost it...

"Henry." Charles let go of his hands to take his face, lifting his head until he opened his eyes, "I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner."

"Oh no, please don't cry." Henry hastily wiped Charles' tears away.

"I can't help it! I feel like I've failed you!"

"You haven't! I didn't want you to know!" Henry swallowed, sniffing as his nose began to run, "I didn't want to be a burden on you! I didn't want you to worry!"

"Why not? It's a sign that I love you, isn't it?"

Charles tried to smile through his tears, and Henry was reminded for the millionth time why he fell so hard for this man.

Henry had never felt so small. He had just admitted to being suicidal in front of the entire fleet, and Charles was taking the blame for his poor state of mind. He hated it. He wanted this to stop. He wanted it all to end.

He got a vivid image in his mind just then. He saw himself as a hospital patient, who relied on a blood bag from Charles' vein to his own. If the connection was severed, Henry would die.

"Who cares, anyway?" Henry rubbed his face with both fists to dispel the tears, "I have nothing without you. I'm _nothing_ without you."

"That's not true at all!" Charles insisted, "You have so many people who care about you here!"

Henry didn't reply, but anyone could tell that he was offended. He didn't believe him.

Galeforce stood again to walk around his desk, "Soldiers! Raise your hand if you care about Henry!"

Every single hand in the room went up. Some of them had to let go of weapons or sheath them in their holsters to do so, some of them raised their left hand, some of them held their hands higher than others, but every soldier in the room had at least one hand up.

Charles met Henry's stare of disbelief as he slowly lifted his right hand.

Henry knew he was being irrational. He knew it, and yet he couldn't believe it. He had such feelings of worthlessness drilled into him at such a young age that breaking away from that all these years later was nigh impossible. The only one he could count on to erase those feelings was Charles, and even he couldn't do it perfectly. It sucked so much knowing that his own brain was lying to him and still being unable to believe otherwise.

"Henry." Charles pulled him into a hug, "I love you so much. Don't do this to yourself. It really hurts."

Henry hugged him back. He felt his arms shaking. He willed them to stop. He squeezed Charles' torso tighter.

It didn't help.

_"I don't know how to stop."_

Charles' breath hitched.

_"I don't want to live without you."_

"Henry." Charles said softly in his ear, "You trust me, don't you? Just trust me."

"Of course I trust you."

"Then trust me when I say that I'm going to be fine. Okay?" Charles kissed his cheek, "And so will you."

Henry didn't believe himself when he said he was worth more than this. That he deserved better than what he always had. He knew it was true, but somehow, his heart just wouldn't let him believe it. However, Charles had his heart in his hands, and if _Charles_ said that he was worth more than he thought, it was at least a little bit more believable.

"Charles..." Henry broke away to look at him, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Hen. Ask me anything you want."

Henry nodded, letting his hands fall to his sides, "How much do you think I'm worth?"

Rupert scrambled for a video camera, but Quentin smacked it out of his hands.

"Oh, _so_ much, Henry!" Charles smiled in poorly-concealed giddiness, "You're like a diamond in the rough! We just needed to find you and get you a cut and polish! Anyone can see that!"

Anyone? Henry glanced over his shoulder at Dave, who smiled and nodded.

"It's easy to doubt your worth when people keep telling you that you're worthless, but you're not." Charles gently took Henry's cheek to turn him back towards himself, "Everyone who said that is a liar, or they couldn't see you for who you really were. You're buried under years of this, and I know it's so hard to climb out of, but you're doing it."

Henry blinked, spilling more tears.

"You're incredible to keep fighting, even after surviving all of that." Charles took Henry's hands in his own and brought them together in front of his chest, "You're a fighter, Henry, so don't believe for a second that you're worthless. I won't allow it."

Henry sighed, taking his hands back as he turned back towards the general, "Alright. Charles and I will go, but we won't go alone. We'll bring backup."

"Thank you." Charles said, "Don't worry; I have a plan."

***

The two of them had their guns at the ready, pointing around corners in case someone jumped out with no warning. They were almost at the room in the abandoned building where the summons had come from. Henry glanced behind him to where he knew Rupert was hiding with the lock-breaker, in case any doors slammed shut on them, and Rupert's sniper was on standby as he slumped into the shadows. He was actually a pretty good shot with that thing, so it helped ease Henry's nerves a bit, though he was still pretty frazzled.

Charles put his hand on the doorknob, "You ready?"

Henry nodded, his pistol at the ready.

"Okay. Three, two, one."

He pushed the door open. Moonlight spilled in through the thin drapes over the window, a cool breeze pushing them aside as the room was bathed in a warm blue glow. A figure stood in front of the window, looking out onto the barren street below. Charles instinctively stuck his left arm out in front of Henry in an attempt to shield him.

Henry quickly signed with his left hand, "I know him." Oddly enough, he seemed a bit more at ease now, as if he was relieved it wasn't someone worse. 

Charles lowered his weapon, "Who are you?"

"Just one moment." the man said in a thick Russian accent, "I know you won't shoot me, Henry."

Henry's gun was trained on him anyway.

Charles shook his head, "Just answer the question, creep."

"Very well, but it's only fair if you introduce yourself first. I'm not certain you are who I called here."

Charles pinched his nose as if nursing a headache, "Fine. Charles Calvin. I'm a Covert Ops pilot for the US government."

"I see." the man turned around, and Charles caught the shine of medals on his grey uniform, "You are just zee person I wanted to see, Charles."

Henry glowered at him, stepping slightly in front of Charles as a silent warning.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't plan to hurt him." he had a wide grey moustache and goatee, and looked to be in his mid seventies.

"Then what are you planning?" Charles demanded, "Why ask me here?"

"Please, please." the old man nodded towards Henry, "Patience. One question at a time."

Henry bared his teeth, his finger hovering over the trigger on his pistol.

"My name is Dmitri Petrov." he walked slowly around the desk, easily staring down the barrels of the younger men's guns as if they were nothing more than plastic toys, "I am zee warden of a Russian government complex in Siberia. Sound familiar?"

Henry took a fearful step back, and Charles stepped in for him, "You kidnapped Henry to take him to your weird prison in the middle of nowhere!"

"'Kidnap' is a strong word. I was simply filling in for your disturbing lack of discipline. Henry is a convict. A criminal. Zat does not change just because you pardoned him."

Henry's arm was beginning to tremble, so Charles pulled him further back into the room, "Easy, Hen. Don't let him get to you."

"I am surprised you trust him so easily." Petrov's "R"s rolled slightly, like a purr, and it put Charles even more on edge, "You are military, _да?_ Surely, you understand zee importance of proper punishment after my men saw your reckless descent onto my helipad."

"Just tell me why you called us here before I pull the trigger!" Charles practically spat at him.

"Fine. _Невероятно."_ Petrov unsheathed his own gun, careful to keep the safety on for the moment, "Henry will come back to zee complex with me. Otherwise?"

He pointed his gun right at Charles' head, between his eyes.

"Zee government pilot dies."

Henry fumbled so badly he dropped his gun, and he was wobbly enough on his feet that he didn't reach for it again.

"Hey, it's okay, Hen. We can get outta this." Charles kept his gun trained on Petrov's chest, not breaking his gaze for even a second in case something went awry, "Pick up your weapon, okay? We can get him."

Henry didn't move.

"Henry? Did you hear me?" Charles' focus still didn't break, but it was a little shakier now, "Henry! Henry, _listen!"_

Henry wasn't listening.

If he went back to the complex, to The Wall, he would likely never get out again. He'd be put in solitary confinement for the rest of his life. If he even _attempted_ escape, he would receive lashings in the freezing cold tundra, just like he had before, and then he'd be put right back in that dark, windowless room, with nothing to entertain himself but his own thoughts. He had nothing to gain and everything to lose.

But... _Charles..._

Slowly, defeatedly, Henry raised both hands in surrender.

"Henry! What are you doing!?"

"You made ze right choice." Petrov holstered his gun before turning Henry around to cuff his hands.

Henry cleared his throat, his voice dry and hoarse, "But you have to let Charles leave, first. If I find out you killed him anyway, I'm fighting you in any way I can."

"Zat's fair enough." Petrov gestured to the door, "Get out, pilot, and don't try anything funny."

Charles lowered his weapon, "Henry. Why? We had a plan..."

"Just go, Charles." Henry held eye contact, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, "If you die, my soul will die with you. This is actually better. For both of us."

Charles felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. It hadn't fully set in until now, but Henry really meant that. Charles had been the first person to show him real kindness, and so Henry had latched onto that like a drowning man who had finally found the surface.

He didn't deserve this.

All this suffering.

Charles sheathed his weapon. He was at a disadvantage here. Petrov was in an area he knew while they were in unfamiliar territory, and Petrov had Henry in cuffs. Even if he managed to apprehend Petrov, there was no guarantee that he would pull his punches to avoid getting arrested and charged. Charles wasn't going to take any chances with Henry's life.

Charles sighed, long and heavy.

He had an idea. He only prayed that it would work.

"Okay." Charles crossed his arms, "Here's what we'll do; I'll go out to the parking lot and get in my friend's helicopter. You're going to follow me there. Once I'm gone, you leave with Henry. Got it?"

"Very well. You'd better not try anything, pilot."

"I won't. Trust me." Charles fiddled with his headset, "Quentin, I need you in the parking lot. The cargo bay door has oiled hinges."

Henry's eyebrows flew up, but luckily, Petrov didn't see. _"The cargo bay door has oiled hinges."_ was a code among the pilots on base, and it meant, _"I'm in a situation where I can't talk straight, so I'm going to relay a message in morse code by scratching my microphone."_ Henry had completely forgotten about it, and even if he remembered, he wasn't fluent in morse code, but Charles was. In fact, all the veterans on base were, and many others who were less experienced.

Henry strained his ears as he listened for the scratches. They were so quiet to him, they could easily be mistaken for mice in the dilapidated building, but he knew that Quentin could hear them loud and clear. Charles used his thumbnail on his left hand, making three short scratches, then four more short scratches, then three long scratches, three more long, and then another long. S...H...O...

Henry gasped softly when he figured it out. _Shoot._ Charles' plan was for Quentin to snipe Petrov from the helicopter window. There was more chatter behind the scenes, probably their backup coming up with another plan, but Henry had stopped listening at that point, too afraid of giving away whatever they were doing. He had no idea what they were doing. At all. But he trusted Charles.

Henry's earpiece came to life, a very quiet voice coming through, just loud enough for him to hear clearly, _"Get ready to duck."_

A boot hit the pavement behind them. Henry willed himself not to turn around. That sounded like Rupert's boots. He was right behind them.

Just as the windshield on the helicopter was rolling down, the firm hands on Henry's wrists left them, and he heard Petrov struggling as he tried to scream.

"Yeah!" Charles cheered, punching the air, "I knew it! Good job, man!"

Rupert was holding a cloth to Petrov's mouth and nose. The Russian warden picked up on the smell and tried not to breathe, but it was too late. His eyelids were heavy. He slumped backwards into Rupert, who lay him on the ground.

"Better if we can keep 'im alive, right?" Rupert stuffed the cloth in his pocket, unhooking the key for the cuffs from Petrov's belt and unlocking the cuffs for Henry, "There ya go!"

Henry hissed as his wrists were freed, the tears spilling over as he gingerly touched them.

"It's okay, Hen." Charles pulled him in for a hug, "It's okay."

Henry winced, sucking a breath of air in between his teeth.

Charles let him go, "You okay?"

Rupert dragged the old man into the helicopter, and for the moment, the two were alone.

Henry pulled his sleeve back, and Charles' hand flew up to his mouth. Henry's wrist was red and raw from the tension, his old scars swollen and raised like the skin was angry. Henry began to cry in earnest, like seeing how bad it was made the pain worse.

"Henry. I'm sorry." Charles' touch barely ghosted over him, "I'm so sorry. Does it hurt too badly?"

Henry nodded.

"Charles?"

Charles replaced Henry's sleeve, "Rupert, Henry needs to see a medic. Those cuffs were tough on him."

Henry vigorously shook his head.

"I know, but it looks really bad." Charles guided him to the helicopter, his hands on his shoulders, "Please. Do it for me."

God, he _knew_ he was being unfair when he said that, but he wasn't about to risk Henry's health for a little secret. As the helicopter took off towards base, Liam took over flying while Quentin reached in the overhead storage for a medkit.

"You said Henry is hurt?" Quentin knelt in front of Henry on the bench, who fearfully flinched away from him, "Hey, you're okay. Let me see it."

Henry weakly shivered until he met Charles' eye, who smiled at him patiently.

"Don't worry, Hen. Quentin won't judge you. I promise."

There was still some hesitance, but finally, Henry rolled his sleeves up, showing off the swollen scars. Quentin's gaze softened on them as he gingerly took each of Henry's hands, scrutinizing the damage. He looked sad, but other than that, Henry couldn't even begin to guess what he was thinking.

"The skin's not broken, so that's good. It just looks like a bit of a friction burn." Quentin tucked in Henry's sleeves so they didn't touch the scars, "Run those under lukewarm water once we're back on base. I can get you some aloe if that isn't enough."

Charles wrapped an arm around Henry, "Thanks, Quin. You're a lifesaver."

"It's no trouble." Quentin stooped lower to meet Henry's gaze, "Hey. Does it hurt too badly? I'm afraid we don't have much here that's safe for burns. Just tough it out for a couple more minutes, okay? We're almost there."

Charles shifted so his hands were cupped around each of Henry's, his palms pressed against the back of both hands, and Henry leaned into him.

"You guys are cute as hell." Quentin stood up as his headset beeped, "What are you idiots doing _this_ time!? _No!_ I did _not_ authorize that! Denied! Stop! Oh my god, you guys are seriously the _worst!"_

Henry pointed one finger towards the bearded pilot, and Charles laughed, "Quentin is in charge of...the _problem_ recruits. Soldiers who suck at their jobs, but who can't be discharged for whatever reason. They're dead weights, basically. There are these two guys who are _always_ drunk when they're supposed to be working, and I swear, trying to keep them in line is going to give poor Quin a stroke."

Henry snorted out a laugh, and Charles smiled softly as he nuzzled into Henry's cheek.

Quentin switched lines over his headset, "Yeah, we're almost back on base. Yeah, we've got Henry with us. He's got cuff burns on both wrists. Uh huh. Yeah, sure thing, sir."

Liam landed the copter, and Quentin jumped from the cargo bay to hurriedly run down the stairs. Henry was about to stand to go after him, but Charles gently urged him back onto the bench.

"Wait for it..."

Quentin returned with a clear bottle, some kind of thick blue gel inside, and Henry made a questioning noise.

"Yeah, I changed my mind." Quentin uncapped the bottle and poured a bit onto Henry's wrists, "I didn't want you to have to walk around base with your sleeves rolled up."

Henry sighed as Quentin massaged the gel over the burns. It was cool and soothing on his clammy skin, and steadily, the pain began to fade.

"You might wanna reapply this every once in awhile." Quentin touched his headphones, getting a bit of gel on them, "What? No! I told you _not_ to do that! Jesus, sorry, I have to go. No, I'm apologizing to Henry and Charles! I swear, if you've blown anything up-!"

Quentin left as Rupert was dragging Petrov's groggy form off the helicopter. General Galeforce glared daggers at Petrov as he was escorted away, and he returned the glare with equal ferocity.

 _"Galeforce."_ Petrov sneered.

 _"Petrov."_ Galeforce snarled, "Get him to a holding cell. I'll deal with that rat myself."

Henry replaced his sleeves over the scars as he left the chopper, Charles not far behind.

"Hey, general." Charles greeted, "Do you...know him?"

"Oh yeah. He an' I go way back." Galeforce smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, "But nevermind that, boys. I'm just glad to see you both safe. You can go home for the rest of the day."

"Thank you, sir." Charles took Henry's hand, "I appreciate that. Come on, Henry. Let's go home."

***

By nightfall, Henry was in bed listening to music. His heart slowed to the sounds that came through his headphones, his eyes shut as he let himself be absorbed into the melody and the lyrics, until he felt the mattress dip and he peeked out to see Charles trying to crawl towards him.

"Aw, shoot. I wanted to surprise you." Charles curled up into his side, "Whatcha listening to?"

"Music." Henry paused the song before unplugging the headphones from his phone, "You ready for bed?"

"Not quite." Charles sat up, "Let me see your wrists."

Henry rolled over, away from him, "Do I have to?"

"No, but I'd like to see if they're healing."

After a bit of hesitation, Henry sat up cross-legged, facing his partner as he rolled his sleeves up.

"Alright. The swelling's gone down." Charles smiled at the only slightly raised lines.

Then his gaze went up to Henry's face, and his smile fell.

"I hate them." Henry took his hands back, "I hate my scars. I wish I could get rid of them."

"Why?"

"Because they hurt! And they make you sad! And they're a reminder of all the shit I've been through!" Henry flopped backwards onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow, _"I hate them."_

"Don't hate them!"

"Why?"

"Because they're stuck with you, and..." Charles sighed, "I don't know. It sounds too much like hating yourself."

Henry didn't reply.

"Henry..." Charles scooted closer to him, "Sit up?"

"Ugh. Why?" Henry groggily sat across from him again, "What could be so important that you're..."

Charles threw his jacket to the floor and then pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing that aside as well.

Henry turned beet red, quickly signing, "Why?"

Charles beamed, amused at his shyness, "Henry, just look."

He did, and once he saw it, he stared.

Charles' arms and chest were riddled with scars. Most of them were jagged, indicating scars gotten on missions. Ones that were once gashes that bled, needing to be patched up. Most notably, though, Charles had four perfectly straight scars across his upper arm like tally marks, and two smooth scars running under each of his pectoral muscles.

Henry had seen Charles shirtless before, but he'd never soaked up his appearance in detail. Henry had more scars than that, he knew that much, but Charles looked like his skin had been used as a battle ground, every mark worse than the last until there was scarcely any unscarred skin left.

However...Henry found that it didn't...look bad? It was upsetting that Charles had been so hurt in the past, but if anything, the scars made him more handsome than he already was. Henry found himself reaching for them before he'd even registered he was moving, and he snatched his hands away, his face red up to his ears.

"You can touch them."

Henry looked up, mouthing, _You sure?_

"Yeah, I don't mind. Go ahead."

Henry reached out again, and this time, he didn't stop.

His fingertips grazed the skin first, then his thumb, which ran the length of one scar right across Charles' breastbone. His other hand came up to meet it as his palm ran over another bit of scarred skin, more recent. He crept closer, his hands moving to Charles' sides and then his back until he was practically in his lap. Charles was muscular, with somewhat broad shoulders, but he was also soft, his stomach sticking out a bit over the waistband of his pants. It made Henry absolutely melt, and with Charles' hands on his shoulders, he kissed Charles' neck, moving lower to kiss one of the scars.

"Ah!" Charles arched his back.

Henry jumped back, "Sorry!"

"No, you're fine." Charles giggled, flustered, "Just shocked me, is all."

Henry ran one finger over the tally-mark scars, "Where did you get these?"

"Oh." Charles looked away, "I forgot I had those. They're, uh..."

He took a shaking breath of air.

"There were these bullies at my school, and they got this pocket knife and uh...well, they all went to jail, so..."

Charles was clearly uncomfortable with the topic, so Henry let it drop, "What about these?" he touched the scars under each pec.

"Oh, those are my top surgery scars!" Charles brightened like a lightbulb, "They're the faintest because they're professional, surgical scars. They're my favorite, though!"

Well, he was right about them being faint. When Henry was at any kind of distance away, they disappeared into the shadows. He wished all his own scars were that easy to miss.

"Wait..." Henry lifted his gaze to match Charles', "Are you showing me this because you don't want me to hate my scars?"

"Well, partially, yes." Charles shrugged, "I hate mine too, sometimes. Plenty of them are associated with bad memories, but, I mean, look at me! I was once a blank canvas, and now I have all of this to show how long I've lived! What I've accomplished! What I've survived! It's something to be proud of, I think."

"Well, that's easy for _you_ to say." Henry sat back down on the bed, "None of your scars are..."

Charles filled in for him, "Self-inflicted?"

Henry stared into his hands.

"I know, but Henry..." Charles took his hands in his own, "You're not doing yourself any favors by hating something you associate with yourself."

"Don't you hate them for hurting me?"

"I hate what they represent." Charles replied, "I hate the reason you have them, and I hate that they're a nuisance to you, but I don't hate the scars themselves. They can't help simply existing."

Henry rolled his eyes, "You're ridiculous. I'm going to bed."

"No!"

"What do you mean-! _Hey!"_

Charles scooped him up and set him on his feet on the floor, "You're not going to sleep until I know this will stop being an issue."

"There's no issue. I'm fine."

"Are you really?"

Henry crossed his arms.

"Henry, some of my scars came about through illness." he continued, "Do you know what else is an illness?"

Henry shook his head, "I'm sleeping on the couch if you keep doing this."

"You're mad at me for wanting you to stop hating yourself?"

"I'm mad that you keep pushing this!"

"It's not going away just because you're ignoring it!"

Henry pushed him away, _"Goodnight,_ Charles."

"I'm not done yet!"

Charles grabbed Henry's wrist, who cried out as his gaze snapped back towards him, flooded with fear.

He let go automatically, and Henry used that opportunity to run.

"Henry, wait! I'm sorry!"

Henry slammed the door, pressing his back to it until his heart stopped pounding.

Colors danced in his vision as he slid to the ground. He tried hard not to cry, but he could feel his chest shaking with silent sobs, and before he knew it, his tears had soaked into his hoodie.

 _"Henry."_ Charles' voice came from the other side of the door, _"I...I love you, okay? Don't do this to yourself. I'm sorry."_

Henry buried his face in his arms as they rested on his knees.

_"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Just...I'll see you in the morning, I hope. Goodnight."_

Henry rolled his sleeves up to look at the scars again. Charles grabbing him hadn't actually hurt that much. It was more shocking than painful, but Charles probably felt awful about it. He was exactly the kind of person who would beat himself up over a small mistake.

Henry hadn't meant to do any of that. Charles was his lifeline, and he had just cruelly cut it.

After some quiet deliberation, Henry stood and opened the door. Charles was sitting on the edge of the bed, crying into his hands. He looked up when Henry entered, and Henry felt his heart pang at the sight.

_What have I done?_

Henry shut the door before stripping off his hoodie and plain white t-shirt underneath, "You know what? Tell me what you see, because I am _incredibly_ curious!"

Charles sniffed, wiping his tears away as he stood up. He took each of Henry's hands in a feather-light touch, turning him towards the full-length mirror in the room. Henry looked between himself, covered in so many ugly scars, and Charles, similarly scarred, but where the scars on Charles' muscular figure made him look stronger, the scars riddled all over Henry's thin frame just made him look more frail.

"How can you not see what I see?" Charles still barely touched him, "All this evidence that you've survived so much, that you never stopped fighting. You're a fighter, Henry. Even when you were miserable, even when you couldn't trust anyone and you were completely alone, you never gave up. You kept fighting. You went after what you wanted with everything you had. You went to hell and back, and now you're stronger than you've ever been. How can you know that and still not see it?"

Henry was hunched over, his face scrunched up in hatred as he looked at his own reflection. Once he heard Charles say that, he stood up straight, his shoulders pushed back as his eyebrows lifted. He couldn't believe how much of a difference it made. He was still thin, but now he looked far less frail. He tilted his head, touching each of his scars as he remembered where he got them, including the scars all over his arms that he hadn't intended to be so deep. So permanent.

"You're beautiful, Henry." Charles turned him to face him properly, "You're strong and handsome. I wish you could see what I see."

Overwhelmed with so many emotions at once, Henry kissed him, and Charles returned it as his hands wrapped around Henry's back. Henry gasped into the kiss. Charles was no longer being so gentle, and his touch was electrifying. He'd never felt Charles' hands all over his bare skin before.

 _"Love you."_ Henry murmured into Charles' mouth, _"Love you so much. Love you._ Love you!"

He shivered as Charles' lips moved to his neck, _"I love you too, Hen."_

Henry wrapped his arms around Charles' neck, who pulled him into his lap as he sat on the bed. Now Henry's knees were on either side of Charles' hips, and Charles continuously trailed his lips lower and lower, placing soft, tender kisses on each scar on his chest. Henry's head lolled back. He felt so exposed. So vulnerable, but still so safe. Every kiss echoed across his skin like fireworks. He craved _more._

He turned to sit in Charles' lap with his back up against his chest, and Charles took Henry's arms to look at the worst of the scars.

Charles placed his head on Henry's shoulder, "Are you okay?"

Henry nodded, "It's unreal to me that you could love me so much. That you could find me beautiful."

"Well, sometimes I wonder the same thing about you. I always feel so lucky that you trust me, and love me, and all that."

Charles brought Henry's wrist up to his lips, but then he hesitated.

Henry gulped loudly, "Go ahead."

Charles' lips made contact with the first scar, and Henry sucked in a breath of air. The skin was still raw, so it was incredibly sensitive, and Charles' lips were _so soft._

He closed his eyes as he leaned back into Charles' shoulder, and each kiss trailed further in towards his elbow. Henry weakly squirmed, his face turning to kiss Charles' neck so he wouldn't stop, and he focused on the feeling of such soft lips on each old scar.

He remembered how horrible he felt when those scars were still bleeding cuts. How each one hurt, alleviating the pressure in his chest, watching the dark red liquid as it dripped onto the dirty pavement below.

Now though, those horrid memories were slowly being overwritten by Charles' lips all over his skin. There was no pain, just a tingly sensation and a warm fuzziness in his chest like he was downing a mug of hot cocoa. He felt that warmth all the way down to his fingertips and toes, his heartbeat slowing with his growing exhaustion and overwhelming love for his partner.

By the time Charles pulled away, Henry could barely hold himself up. Charles swept him up to lay him in bed, pulling the covers up over him and holding him close to his body as Henry huddled into him.

"Henry." Charles kissed his forehead, "You have so many people who care about you. Trust me; Quentin has no tolerance for useless soldiers, but he knows you, and he cares so much. Please. Don't ever give up. You're so much stronger than you think you are. You're incredible."

Henry relaxed into his hold, and just like that, he was out like a light, a small smile on his face as he slipped away.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Do yourself a favor and go listen to "Before You, I Didn't Exist" by FRND. I've been listening to it on repeat for the past few days, and I think of Charles and Henry every time I hear it.
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr! marshemillow.tumblr.com


End file.
